Red Magic - Jean Rabe [98]
The centaur slowly blinked and cast his face down sluggishly at the druid. "Who-who are you?" his deep voice queried.
"Wynter, don't you recognize us?" Brenna hurried to the centaur's side. "I'm Brenna, remember? This is your friend, Galvin. Are you all right?"
The centaur reached his hand up to his wounded head, his fingers feeling the blood. "Galvin? Brenna?" he repeated in a childish tone.
"Yes," the druid coaxed. "Don't you remember us?"
"Are we going to play? I'd like to play now."
"Wynter!" Galvin barked. "Snap out of this!"
"Don't yell. I'm sorry," the centaur apologized sheepishly. "Can we play later?"
"Yes, later," Brenna cut in. "But you have to come with us first. We have work to do. We'll play later."
The centaur seemed satisfied and reached his hand down to take Brenna's. The enchantress led him from the orchard, with Galvin and the skeletons falling in behind.
When they had rejoined the undead army, Brenna mounted her horse and looked back uncertainly at Galvin. The centaur stood behind the druid, a silly grin spreading across his face as he scrutinized one of his gauntlets.
"Let's get moving," the druid said in a businesslike manner, his concerned expression contrasting with his tone. "We'll have to watch Wynter closely; he's like a child. Gods, what made him wander off into that orchard?"
"The plant," the sorceress said simply. "He must have caught a whiff of that pollen."
"Then we need to be doubly careful. Maybe there are more of the things nearby." The druid glanced forlornly at his Harper friend.
"I've seen spells do things like this," Brenna offered as she scrutinized Wynter's face. "They make people feebleminded, cause them to loose their sanity, become useless. The spells are usually only temporary."
"And this…?"
"I don't know," she said uncertainly. "If he doesn't come to his senses, maybe we can find someone in Amruthar to help him."
"And if not?"
Brenna frowned and shifted position in her saddle.
The procession resumed its march toward Maligor's tower.
*****
High in a tower room, Maligor was too preoccupied to magically cast his vision about looking for the reactions of others to his gnoll troops. Had he not been so preoccupied, he might have received a hint that Szass Tam was sending an undead army to Amruthar. He was taking for granted that the gnolls' presence was causing the city's wizards to add to their own defenses. He hoped all the nearby Red Wizards were paying attention to his gnolls.
Delirious with himself, excited about this night's activities and his impending control of the Thayvian gold mines, Maligor was unable to stand still. He paced in his library, twirling a long strand of black hair around and around his right index finger until it hung alongside his face in a limp spiral. He wanted to relax… needed to relax. But he also needed his wits about him, so he kept away from the wine cabinet-a most difficult task.
He continued to pace, mentally rehearsing his impending sermon to the gnolls. He had decided last night that he would address them all prior to their upcoming battle. Asp was out of the picture as far as his gnolls were concerned. The spirit naga had served her function in the army, training the gnolls well. The army was to her credit, Maligor forced himself to admit. She was so power-hungry that she saw disciplined troops as a way to improve her own image and increase her standing. And the Red Wizard was certain she believed that taking another wizard's land for Maligor meant she would be tossed some juicy scraps.
"Simpleton," he said, thinking of the beautiful naga, who was oblivious to what was transpiring around her. He would enjoy putting Asp in her place while using her to complete the greatest scheme in Thay's recent history. Nagas were usually creatures who dwelled in ruins, caverns, and other such desolate places. The mines would fit her well and remind her of her place in the workings of the country.
"What is going on?" Asp hissed, slithering through the doors she had forcefully thrown open, leaving two startled